Nucleus
by The Lady Fair
Summary: Tortured and locked in the dungeons, Hermione Granger's life hangs in the balance. The nucleus of the Golden Trio separated and alone. Preparing to kill her, Draco Malfoy learns that some choices are a lot harder than others. Slight Dramione. M for torture and slight gore. Probably overrated to be safe.


**.**

 **Nucleus**

 **.**

Draco sat in the darkness. Crudely carved stone walls surrounded him as he reflected on how he wound up here, in the lowest dungeons of Malfoy Manor. The only sound accompanying his melancholy state was a constant dripping – moisture seeping in through the walls from the nearby groundwater. His grey eyes stared through the person hanging across from him as he buried himself in his thoughts.

He was going to die. Whether or not he completed this task he knew he wouldn't make it through the war. Draco groaned as the memory of Dumbledore on the edge of the Astronomy tower crowded his brain. Dumbledore stood there, waiting for him to make his move... and Draco had lowered his wand. He didn't kill him—couldn't kill him—and if it hadn't been for Snape finishing the job...

"Wa-Water..."

The strangled sound barely reached his ears. Even though he heard it, Draco couldn't help the panic and bile that rose up in his throat – he had a task to do. He was going to die. Blood pounded through his ears, fast and furious, leaving no room for sound even as his eyes refocused on the dangling witch.

She was bedraggled. Torn clothes hanging from her body almost as loosely as she herself hung from the manacles. Once curly hair hung, stringy, around her face – covering her eyes. Blinking, Draco stood, a cup materializing in his hands before he even knew what he was doing. Four paces later her was at his captive's side. His fingers brushing the brown hair away from her face as he tipped cool liquid down her throat. She kept her eyes closed. Probably blocking out the reality of their situation the way Draco wished he could.

When the cup was empty Draco retreated, slumping against the crude stool. His eyes seemed to be glued to the butchered arm of his charge. The sight drawing him back to the horrifying moment it had happened. His Aunt Bellatrix straddling her victim, blood dripping from the blade as she prepped to plunge it back into her flesh. Shuddering, Draco refocused his attention on her face. He knew that he would never be able to enter that drawing-room again.

"I'm to kill you."

He startled at the sound of his own voice. Gone was the confident Draco – the boy who taunted and teased with hardly a care. Now he sounded scared. Little and weak, the reality of his own prejudices having turned out to be more of a nightmare than anyone had ever imagined.

Muddy eyes opened, a small spark still alive in their depths as she simply returned his stare. Draco found that he couldn't look away. These were eyes that he had seen happy, anxious, angry, and sad – they were always filled with emotion. He remembered her first day at Hogwarts. A look of such awe and wonder had come into those same eyes that it seemed to dim the excitement of all the other first years as they crowded into the entrance hall. Now those eyes were dulled with resignation. Acceptance of her fate.

Could he accept his fate?

Draco found himself on his feet and next to her once more. His gaze traveling over his former classmate as one cold finger brushed across her pulse.

"Hermione," the name was foreign on his lips, sounding inappropriate under the influence of his trademark drawl.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting just barely. Draco could have smirked at that—it had been so long since he'd been able to surprise anyone. He could have smirked if he had anything resembling joy left in his soul. Instead he frowned. Resolutely he traced his finger across her collar-bone and down her arm.

He stopped at the broken line on her skin, idly picking at the bloody crust that was gathering around the letters. Crudely cut letters for an even cruder word. Sometimes he regretted ever learning the word. Childishly blaming the gruesome reality of living with Voldemort on that one stupid word. And yet it still dripped from his lips anytime he looked at someone with lesser blood—poison that he couldn't help but spew forth.

He felt so alone. His eyes remained focused on that destitute look in her own, believing that perhaps that look was an embodiment of his emotions as well. He was so cold. Numb. Too tired to rationalize anything anymore. Surely Hermione was feeling enough emotion for the both of them. Somewhere in that broken shell of a witch there had to be a bubble of emotions strong enough for two. Draco had to believe that because he couldn't feel much of anything anymore.

His thoughts turned back to the drawing-room. Death Eaters surrounding the group of students, wands at the ready. Granger's friends apparated away just as Bellatrix flung her dagger into the melee. They were gone before anyone could process why Dobby was in the room. A horrid scream had ripped itself out of his Aunt's throat as they disappeared – anger and defeat wrapped up in a bubble of crazy. Draco's dreams would forever be haunted by that sound.

He refocused again. That spark in her eyes was fading. She wouldn't know her friends had gone. Wouldn't know that they had survived Malfoy Manor. Draco felt his heart clench at the thought, suddenly wanting nothing more than to tell her. Tell her that they, at least, were safe.

He whispered, almost too afraid to even speak the words, "They're alive. Potter and Weasley. Escaped with the house elf."

Grey watched brown. A spark, brief and bright, burned too quickly in her eyes. Hope, replaced with a deep sadness. Draco felt a wetness on his cheeks but didn't reach up to wipe it away. They had left her. Left her to die at the hands of a boy who wasn't sure he could complete his task. Suddenly he understood the meaning his words had. It didn't matter that Potter and Weasley didn't have a choice – it hurt to know that they abandoned her. Draco held down a sob, wishing it didn't hurt as Granger sagged against her bonds. Breaking their connection, she once again shut her eyes.

This time when he spoke he sounded almost like himself. "Dumb boys. Everyone knows they won't survive without you. Potter's probably already gotten himself killed."

He managed a smirk this time as her eyes snapped open, anger pulsating off her as she opened her mouth to speak. Draco quickly stopped her, his finger pressed against her dry, cracked lips. A little voice in the back of his head mentioning that he should have been disgusted at the touch. Somehow it only made him sadder.

"Don't," he whispered.

Leaning forward he let his body sag against her. Wrapping his left arm around her waist as he traced her lips with the fingers on his right. They were too young for this. Too young to die. His body shook as he dropped his head into the crevice of her bosom, nestling there like a lost child. He sought solace for a minute, his tears wetting her sweater as he finally let go and sobbed. Granger rested her head on his, a single tear dropping onto his head.

Draco's thoughts were far away as he absent-mindedly stroked Granger's back, comforting himself with the touch of another human. When he finally spoke he raised his head to meet her gaze, being honest for perhaps the first time in his life.

"They need you. They have always needed you. I never understood why – they're competent wizards and you're just a mudbl... But it's true. Those two, they are lost without you.

"You're strong enough to keep them going. Smart enough to reign them in. I'm sure Potter would have done something rash and stupid by now. Killed himself but for you. You're their nucleus. And without you they won't survive.

"None of us will survive," his last words were so quiet he could barely hear them.

He buried his face back between her breasts and breathed deep. Reality was sinking in and, just like on the tower, Draco wasn't sure he was ready or able to face it. The sobs came again as one thought pounded through his mind. He was going to die. It didn't matter if he succeeded tonight or not – at some point his family's obsession with a deranged psychopath was going to kill him. And most likely it would be sooner than later.

Sometime between his speech and his acceptance of his fate Draco had wrapped his second arm around Granger. Holding on to the woman he had to kill like she was the only anchor in a never-ending storm. His sobs slowly calmed, grief settling heavy in his stomach as he borrowed strength from Granger the way so many others had. He found his own footing, trying to stand tall while he made his own decisions for the first time in his life.

Draco pulled away suddenly, his mind made up—only one of them had to die—and he glared at his prey, daring her to judge him. Those dark eyes stared back at him, resigned as he whipped out his wand.

"Reducto!" He bellowed, a strength he'd never had surging through him as he repeated the spell over and over again.

He whirled around. His arms swinging around wildly as he demolished the lower dungeon of his family home. When he was finished he stood in the center of the room, his hair disheveled and his chest heaving as he glared at what used to be the door. His back was turned toward Granger but he didn't have to see her to know that her eyes were on him. To feel the wheels in her mind starting to turn as she assessed him. He smirked almost whole-heartedly, imagining that she believed he had finally gone mad.

He was on the brink of death, of course he had gone mad. He turned around and found Granger too close, her arms to her sides and her head tilted, passive. She remained silent as they regarded each other for a time. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, Draco held out his wand, palm open.

"Take it."

Brown eyes remained steady on his. Moments ticking by as she remained still. Draco's heart was thundering in his chest—surely someone would be coming to check on them. To make sure he hadn't failed yet again. There wasn't time for this; she had to get out and go or Potter would surely kill himself and the whole wizarding world would fall under Voldemort. Panic seeped up once more, and he grabbed her hand, placing it on the wand forcefully.

"Take it!"

Fingernails scratched at his palm, her fingers slowly curling around the polished wood. Draco gulped as the wand left his hand. They needed her, he reminded himself, they all needed her.

He was going to die.

His open palm hung empty in the air between them. His strength disappearing as dark thoughts began to crowd his mind, the consequences of his defiance washed over him in cold waves. He dropped his head and willed himself to stay strong until she left. Draco Malfoy was going to die because he couldn't bring himself to kill.

Warm fingers curled around his frozen hand, fighting against the darkness as Hermione stepped in front of him. They locked eyes—her warmth and strength battling against his terror. Draco felt her pull him into an embrace, his mouth opening in surprise as he felt that familiar tug.

Her whispered words were the last thing heard in the dungeon before they apparated away.

"You need me too."


End file.
